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deannawolTitle: Economies of Trust
Author:![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=1)
deannawol
Fandom: American Idol
Pairing/Character: Adam, Allison
Rating: 15+ (mentions and images of a violent nature)
Wordcount: 1,100
Summary: From street merc to rockstar-in-the-making and entrepreneur? Sometimes even Adam doesn't know how that happened.
Author Notes: The idea for this piece came out of left field last night and demanded to be written. Written as an accompaniment to Mirrorshades and Miniguns and ara's Prologue. Feedback is always welcome.
Adam Lambert didn't do relationships. Which wasn't to say that he didn't do sex - as often as his overly dangerous lifestyle would allow in fact - but rather than the people in his life were divided up into four categories: family, ex-lovers, unknowns and enemies, and there was no room in there for complications.
When your day job was putting yourself in the firing line and getting shot at, well, you had to make sacrifices. A wise man once said, ‘Have nothing in your life that you can’t walk out on in fifteen seconds flat’. Well, okay, like a lot of Adam's principles, that one's actually from a movie but still! He lived by the gun. And more than likely he’d die by it too and giving people power over you was just inviting an early grave.
However, that said, he did have a handful of people that had snuck in under his defenses and there was nothing he could do about that. Take Allison, for example. Allison had started as just Streek's kid sister. Adam’d been loosely affiliated with Streek for what had to be five years, calling him in when he needed a little extra backup or an extra gun on a job. The guy had been good, bit of a dick, but dependable and for Adam that was the most important fact. But when Streek caught a .50 cal meant for Adam, Adam had inherited his little sister.
It was awkward at first, being tied down and having to consider someone else. And never had that point been rammed home so hard as when Allison had wandered in to investigate some ‘weird noises’ she’d heard. Adam had nearly sprained something vital in his grab for the covers. He’d gotten his payback the first time she’d brought a boy home. It wasn’t his fault that the boy wasn’t street hardened and had gone running off at the sight of Adam’s very large, very shiny and very deadly guns pointed at him. He’d paid for intimidating the guy later and been walking gingerly for another week after that. Who knew that little Allie had such a fiery temper? She’d dyed her hair red shortly after that. Least now, there’d be a little warning for the unsuspecting residents of the city around them.
When she’d come to him shortly after her eighteenth birthday with plans for a club, he’d had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Allison who’d never been inside a club – or so he’d thought – wanted to take over some run down joint a couple of blocks from The Gauntlet. He’d put his foot down hard but it hadn’t taken her long to worm her way past any objections that he’d had. That was why family were dangerous.
He’d ended up fronting her most of the money, insisting that she not touch the creds that her brother had left her. You never knew when you might need a get-the-fuck-outta-here fund and he wouldn’t see her short in an emergency. He’d made and lost a fortune since taking up life on the far side of legal and a couple of hundred thousand dropped on Allison’s dreams still left him with more than enough operating capital. He just hated to think how this was going to leave her upset when it all came crashing down. She knew nothing about running a club and he didn’t know much more.
They’d fought over the name for almost six weeks and again, Allison won. Idolize opened on a Friday night and was tanking right up until Adam had taken out his phone and started calling around. He didn't begrudge her the favours he’d cashed in even if they could have been used for more life threatening situations. Fixers were bribed. He’d even called the head of the taxi union, a guy who’d been looking to get into his pants for years, a guy who Adam couldn’t stand to be in a room with, and made nice with him just so that the taxi drivers would start dropping people off outside whether they liked it or not.
He’d taken a bigger hand in the club shortly after that, not entirely voluntarily, but that was what he got for not being quick enough when some piece of scum decided to use him as a speed bump. Three broken ribs, and one shattered femur, and he’d been glad of the steady stream of income. He’d learned everything he needed to know about accounting and ordering and that he could sing.
Well, that might be a little of an exaggeration. He knew he could sing well enough and he’d done a little karaoke but that was it. He made a living with his wits and his weapons and he was happy with that. Or he had been right up until Allison had stripped off his armoured jacket and shoved him onto the stage after the lead singer of the house band had called in sick.
The first song had been flat, nothing special and no one had looked twice at him up there and for some reason that had offended him. He was Silverfyre, best damned street merc in the city. People were calling him day and night and begging him to take their jobs. He didn’t get ignored by trashy posers like them. A quiet word to the band, a change of tempo and he tried again, putting his heart and soul and so much heat into the lyrics. As the last note faded out, silence rushed in and Adam opened his eyes to look at the crowd.
It was Allison who started the clapping, sweet little Allison and he'd been convinced that she was just humouring him until the rest of the crowd took up the clapping, whistling and demanding more. It probably wasn’t the best decision in the world to go by Silverfyre on stage as well as on the street but he hadn’t been thinking, just sailing high on the adrenaline.
And now, here he stood, years later, the silent partner in one of the most successful runner clubs in the city, with three gigs a week and the pick of any job in the city. Running might be a short life, but while it lasted, damn it was good.
Author:
deannawol Fandom: American Idol
Pairing/Character: Adam, Allison
Rating: 15+ (mentions and images of a violent nature)
Wordcount: 1,100
Summary: From street merc to rockstar-in-the-making and entrepreneur? Sometimes even Adam doesn't know how that happened.
Author Notes: The idea for this piece came out of left field last night and demanded to be written. Written as an accompaniment to Mirrorshades and Miniguns and ara's Prologue. Feedback is always welcome.
~#~#~
Adam Lambert didn't do relationships. Which wasn't to say that he didn't do sex - as often as his overly dangerous lifestyle would allow in fact - but rather than the people in his life were divided up into four categories: family, ex-lovers, unknowns and enemies, and there was no room in there for complications.
When your day job was putting yourself in the firing line and getting shot at, well, you had to make sacrifices. A wise man once said, ‘Have nothing in your life that you can’t walk out on in fifteen seconds flat’. Well, okay, like a lot of Adam's principles, that one's actually from a movie but still! He lived by the gun. And more than likely he’d die by it too and giving people power over you was just inviting an early grave.
However, that said, he did have a handful of people that had snuck in under his defenses and there was nothing he could do about that. Take Allison, for example. Allison had started as just Streek's kid sister. Adam’d been loosely affiliated with Streek for what had to be five years, calling him in when he needed a little extra backup or an extra gun on a job. The guy had been good, bit of a dick, but dependable and for Adam that was the most important fact. But when Streek caught a .50 cal meant for Adam, Adam had inherited his little sister.
It was awkward at first, being tied down and having to consider someone else. And never had that point been rammed home so hard as when Allison had wandered in to investigate some ‘weird noises’ she’d heard. Adam had nearly sprained something vital in his grab for the covers. He’d gotten his payback the first time she’d brought a boy home. It wasn’t his fault that the boy wasn’t street hardened and had gone running off at the sight of Adam’s very large, very shiny and very deadly guns pointed at him. He’d paid for intimidating the guy later and been walking gingerly for another week after that. Who knew that little Allie had such a fiery temper? She’d dyed her hair red shortly after that. Least now, there’d be a little warning for the unsuspecting residents of the city around them.
When she’d come to him shortly after her eighteenth birthday with plans for a club, he’d had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Allison who’d never been inside a club – or so he’d thought – wanted to take over some run down joint a couple of blocks from The Gauntlet. He’d put his foot down hard but it hadn’t taken her long to worm her way past any objections that he’d had. That was why family were dangerous.
He’d ended up fronting her most of the money, insisting that she not touch the creds that her brother had left her. You never knew when you might need a get-the-fuck-outta-here fund and he wouldn’t see her short in an emergency. He’d made and lost a fortune since taking up life on the far side of legal and a couple of hundred thousand dropped on Allison’s dreams still left him with more than enough operating capital. He just hated to think how this was going to leave her upset when it all came crashing down. She knew nothing about running a club and he didn’t know much more.
They’d fought over the name for almost six weeks and again, Allison won. Idolize opened on a Friday night and was tanking right up until Adam had taken out his phone and started calling around. He didn't begrudge her the favours he’d cashed in even if they could have been used for more life threatening situations. Fixers were bribed. He’d even called the head of the taxi union, a guy who’d been looking to get into his pants for years, a guy who Adam couldn’t stand to be in a room with, and made nice with him just so that the taxi drivers would start dropping people off outside whether they liked it or not.
He’d taken a bigger hand in the club shortly after that, not entirely voluntarily, but that was what he got for not being quick enough when some piece of scum decided to use him as a speed bump. Three broken ribs, and one shattered femur, and he’d been glad of the steady stream of income. He’d learned everything he needed to know about accounting and ordering and that he could sing.
Well, that might be a little of an exaggeration. He knew he could sing well enough and he’d done a little karaoke but that was it. He made a living with his wits and his weapons and he was happy with that. Or he had been right up until Allison had stripped off his armoured jacket and shoved him onto the stage after the lead singer of the house band had called in sick.
The first song had been flat, nothing special and no one had looked twice at him up there and for some reason that had offended him. He was Silverfyre, best damned street merc in the city. People were calling him day and night and begging him to take their jobs. He didn’t get ignored by trashy posers like them. A quiet word to the band, a change of tempo and he tried again, putting his heart and soul and so much heat into the lyrics. As the last note faded out, silence rushed in and Adam opened his eyes to look at the crowd.
It was Allison who started the clapping, sweet little Allison and he'd been convinced that she was just humouring him until the rest of the crowd took up the clapping, whistling and demanding more. It probably wasn’t the best decision in the world to go by Silverfyre on stage as well as on the street but he hadn’t been thinking, just sailing high on the adrenaline.
And now, here he stood, years later, the silent partner in one of the most successful runner clubs in the city, with three gigs a week and the pick of any job in the city. Running might be a short life, but while it lasted, damn it was good.
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Date: 2011-02-13 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-13 08:42 pm (UTC)Enthusiastic, ain't ya?! ;)